


Jeeves and the Drowsy Whatsit -or- Beach Blanket Chevalier

by godsdaisiechain (preux)



Series: Wedding Bell Blues [2]
Category: Jeeves & Wooster, Jeeves - P. G. Wodehouse
Genre: Clothing, Competent!Bertie, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Marriage, Marriage of Convenience, Swimsuits, innocent!Jeeves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-08
Updated: 2012-09-12
Packaged: 2017-11-13 19:41:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/507032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preux/pseuds/godsdaisiechain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Devastated by heartbreak, Bertie and Jeeves repair to the beach.  Bertie's swimwear draws crowds of admirers.  Can Jeeves protect him from unwanted advances?</p><p>This is the prequel to "Wedding Bell Blues" in which we learn how precious a pet Jeeves actually was in the early days.</p><p>Caution--typed on German keyboard and hence full of typos and whatnot</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The pained sense

**Bertie**

That Keats cove had something on the order of a whatsit when he wrote about the drowsy thingummy paining his sense. Just the ticket for the Wooster hurly-burly of emotions. Unless he meant the pain in the whatchamacallit, in which case, but that was later.  Jeeves knew not of the drowsy t. and the paining s. Not then, at least.

On the evening in question, the Wooster corpus throbbed in an agony of not-quite-awake whatsits.  Ginger Winship was, on the morrow, to wed some blighted beazel.  A nice enough sort, I supposed, for a bride foisted by an aunt. 

I staggered home tighter than an owl after the bachelor party at the Drones and collapsed on the inebriated doormat in a willowy heap. It had been more than a year since Ginger and I had been like Damon and whats-his-name, but the heart had begun to ache when he took me aside after the first three rounds of toasts. He took the paws in his own manly mitts and began to pour forth fulsome apologies.  "It ought to have been you, Bertie. I am very sorry.  It ought to have been.  I ought to have told you.  I am terribly sorry old bean."

Now, on one at the Drones or elsewhere would ever claim that Bertram is the brightest egg in the tool shed or even very introspective and whatnot.  So I assured him that no one expected anything of the sort and sent him back into the festive fray and commenced to drinking with a will.  But it was too late.  The bean had begun its work and, shortly before I arrived at Berkeley Mansions, as aforesaid tighter than an owl encased in the skin of a sparrow--which is dashed tight--the unwelcome realization crashed down upon the grey matter like a ton of unfriendly light bulbs.  It really ought to have been me.  He ought to have told me.  Ginger loved me, and what's more, I loved him.  It had caused the parting, in fact, and, bless him, Ginger thought I had been preux rather than gormless all these long months. 

The heart simply shredded itself and I collapsed, as also aforementioned in a w. heap on the i. doormat.  In the weakened condition, the bean spun with unhealthy thoughts.  It had been long months since I had been held or kissed or touched and the life spread out before me, barren and bleak and blasted bereft of snuggles. No wonder I got the freak in the onion to want a little girl.  Thank heavens Jeeves had thought up that speaking wheeze.  It took me months to puzzle it out, but thank goodness I now knew what blighted evil and sticky things they can be. Brrr.

The bean was spinning and the e.s were just beginning to water in a way that it would be hard to pass off as manly and bold, when the door opened and the Jeevesian carpet slippers said "how d'ye do?"  He gave that sort of soft sighing chuckle he thought that I could not hear when I was drunk and bent to peel me up from the doormat. "Would you like, " he began in the fond, amused voice he also thought I could not hear when d. but catching sight of the dial he stopped and a rummy tone replaced it.  "Sir?" He tucked the w. corpus close against him and got the door closed.  "Sir? Are you unwell?"

"Merely whatsit, Jeeves," I slurred in a quavery way.

The Jeevesian hands were gentler than usual as he helped me undress and get into the bed.  The agony of spirit was great, nearly blinding, so I cannot be sure, but it seemed that he wanted to stroke the golden hair and held himself back with an effort.  I stiffened the upper lip and told him that would be all and he shimmered out with a worried look on his dial.  He had hardly oiled out when the sobs began, and I muffled them in a pillow until I was too exhausted to do anything but gasp like a drowned goldfish.

Just after dawn, the Jeevesian hands were back, levering me up, tipping a soothing beverage down the hatch, and wiping the tear-stained dial with a warm towel.  They tucked the master well into the covers and gave a manly press to one slender shoulder before the drowsy whatsit lured me to sleep. 

**Jeeves**

Mr. Wooster has always been a kind and generous master, and to this day, I cringe in shame when I consider the unfeeling way I dealt with him when he said that he was lonely and wanted a little girl. Had I consulted the psychology of the individual rather than succumbing to a species of blind panic at the thought of losing our cozy bachelor arrangements, I might have discerned Mr. Wooster's distress months earlier. I also might have understood the workings of my own heart appreciably sooner. It would have saved a great deal of suffering for both of us.

Some weeks after Mr. Wooster's failed attempt to address some remarks to a group of giggling schoolgirls, Mr. Winship sent an invitation for a prenuptial celebration of a type that had become increasingly common among Mr. Wooster's acquaintance at the Drones Club. My young master had grown unusually quiet and thoughtful on receiving the invitation and I suddenly understood the nature of his distress.

I marvel still at the discretion and tact Mr. Wooster employed in hiding the evidence of his long-time love affair from me.  I had not thought him clever enough, which undoubtedly worked in his favor.

I have long been very fond of Mr. Wooster and witnessing his profound distress on his return from Mr. Winship's celebration nearly undid me.  I helped him to bed and returned to check on him shortly after my own usual hour of rising.  Finding him in the aftermath of what must have been paroxysmal grief, I did my best to soothe and comfort him without breaching propriety, hoping that a sound sleep would restore him to much of his usual cheer and good humor.

**Bertie**

The willowy form simply contracted in shame. I had blubbered in plain sight of Jeeves, who would now biff off to find a manlier master.  He shimmered in with my tea, looking grey and hollow about the e.s. then hovered about in what, for him, was a highly nervous fashion.

"Thank-you, Jeeves."

"You're welcome, sir.  I trust you are feeling somewhat improved?" A rummy thingness sounded in his tone and there was that look about the e.s. again, as if he wanted to soothe and comfort Wooster like a lost, mentally negligible puppy. 

I stiffened the upper lip and opened the mouth to speak, but the pipes snapped shut most rudely and the golden pate bowed to hide the evidence of my tears. "Sir, perhaps I should phone a physician.  You seem terribly unwell."

The w. frame contracted again, this time in terror.  What could I say?  I did not want to be bunged into some loony bin.  "No, no, Jeeves," I managed to gasp. "I will be quite all right presently."

"What service can I offer you, sir?" The Jeevesian tone was full of r. thingness and distant, like he was really speaking to himself. I tried to look cheerful and carefree, and the corpus shook with the effort.  I wished he would leave me some privacy. The g.pate bowed again and the sobs came. I could have died of mortification as I did my best to smother them. 

The bed dipped under the weight of Jeeves-sized object and I was eased gently until the bean rested on a broad, muscular shoulder. Oddly, the sense of mortification trickled away as soon as his hands touched me. He rubbed the back and spoke gently and reassuringly, in the way he spoke when I was very ill, then oozed out to run the bath. The hair was washed and the back scrubbed, then the slender limbs clothed in the comfiest raiment and deposited on the Chesterfield for the day. Most of the time, I dozed. I refused the fragrant eggs and b., but other choice morsels were left by the side from time to time and soothing beverages. In the afternoon, he played for me on the piano and read from my mystery novel, even using different voices for the different characters. Tears oozed out from the e.s. whenever he was out of the room.

By evening, we were both sorely flagging, and he tipped another soothing brew down the Wooster hatch and helped me bedeck the s. limbs with pyjamas and nestle into the bed. I rested a while, but then woke feeling dashed upset.  It was still early and I trickled out in my dressing gown to find him in the kitchen, partaking of some homely viands. When he saw me, he sprang up like a scalded jack-in-the box.

"No, please," I said, sinking into a chair, and resting the bean on the table.  He sat and continued and when he caught sight of me watching, seemed to struggle within himself and then offered me a bite.  I opened the lips.  "Thank-you, Jeeves.  It is very good."

He paused then, and moved to sit beside me and fed me turnabout from the plate.  He made another batch and we ate that.  "Sir, can you speak of what is troubling you?"  The tears started flowing again, and he levered me up and helped me back into the sitting room.  "I am very sorry about the incident with the car and the young ladies, sir.  I should have come to your aid more quickly."  

I started to laugh at this confession, and I could see him relax.  "Thank-you, Jeeves," I said.  "I think I can sleep now."

**Jeeves**

When considering the softer emotions, my experiences, hence my resources, are quite limited.  However, on seeing Mr. Wooster's highly evident distress, I felt compelled to delve into my limited store.  As a child, I had been nearly prostrated by grief on the death of my mother, and my father, a kind-hearted if serious minded man, had taken three precious days from his other occupations to comfort me before surrendering me to the care of the aunt who later placed me as a page in a girl's school in the mistaken belief that it would be a gentler assignment than working in a school for young men.

I spent the day doing for Mr. Wooster all my father had done for me, entertaining him, tempting his appetite with treats, and even letting him eat from my plate. It was only with difficulty that I did not snuggle him to sleep. As the day progressed, the remorse I felt at my earlier conduct to Mr. Wooster in his loneliness grew more acute.  How could I have been so blind to his individual psychology?  Eventually, I apologized to him and he gave the first evidence of cheerfulness he had expressed since returning home the night before. Thankfully, he was able to settle to sleep.

**Bertie**

We limped along for some days. I spent a great deal of time at the club, where the company of the other fellows helped me ignore the troubles. Freddie Widgeon beat me at darts more than once, which started much speculation as to the outcome of the annual darts sweep later that year.  I hadn't the heart to tell anyone that I was sadly off form. In the evenings, I pretended that I was going out and sent Jeeves to his club, then crept back by stealth to mope abut in peace.

Eventually the other shoe dropped into the soup. Jeeves shimmered up with the afternoon b and s while I was smoking a reasonably contented, if moist, Turkish cigarette and coughed in a rummy way.  I hurriedly dashed the tears from the cheeks and endeavored to look masculine and commanding and generally the sort of cove suited to wed Bobbie Wickham.

"Yes, Jeeves?"

"Sir, I am very concerned.  This is unlike you and I beg leave to consult a physician on your behalf."

The cigarette flew up and landed on the carpet.  Jeeves picked it up and returned it to the ash tray. "No, Jeeves.  I forbid it. I am perfectly fine."

"Yes, sir."

"Don't address me in that soupy tone, Jeeves. I have no intention of being poked and prodded.  None."

"Indeed, sir."

"Jeeves, if you persist in this blithering, I insist that you see Sir Roderick Glossop to address your symptoms of looniness.  This is not to be born."

"Yes, sir.  Thank-you, sir."

I reeled in from the Drones in the wee hours of the morning and Jeeves settled me into the bed without a murmur. A few mornings later, he hovered about with additional cups of tea after I stowed a portion of the fragrant eggs and b.  He had taken to tutting when I dressed as the willowy form no longer filled out the trousers as well as it had been used to

"Sir?"

"Thank-you Jeeves, this was very good."

"Sir, I have something to communicate."

I suppressed a sigh. "Yes, Jeeves?"

"I consulted Sir Roderick as you directed and he recommended a complete change of scene.  I have taken the liberty of making arrangements for an excursion to the beach."

The plate tipped over, sending bits of eggs and b. flying about the dining room. "You consulted Sir Roderick?!"

"Yes, sir.  You indicated that my behavior was blithering and I took the liberty of following your orders.  I am most grateful for your kind generosity.  Such a consultation would have been beyond my usual means."

The heart stopped in the slender breast. "What did you say to him?" The squeak in the voice could be passed off as reasonably masterful, I hoped.

"I indicated that I was suffering from considerable distress at my inability to please you and the decline in my work."

"Decline?  Jeeves, whatever are you babbling about now?"

"I took a most unacceptable liberty in pressing you against my breast, sir.  You have been very good not to mention it, but the breach was inexcusable.  However, I told Sir Roderick that I spilled your tea into the saucer. He indicated that I needed a rest if such was the problem and suggested that I travel with the companion of my choice."

The bean spun. "And you elected to choose the young master?"

"I could not possibly leave you alone in your current state, sir. It would not do. I took tickets for the night train this evening." 

Sometimes the better part of valor is knowing when your valet has outwitted you again. "Carry on, Jeeves." 

**Jeeves**

My meeting with Sir Roderick jarred me deeply, for I suddenly understood why I had taken Mr. Wooster into my arms against all propriety. 

"Jeeves?  Yes, do sit down.  What instance of Mr. Wooster's eccentricity brought you here today?"

"Mr. Wooster's eccentricity is much as it ever was, Sir Roderick."

"Then what brings you here today?"

"Mr. Wooster sent me for a consultation because I have been upset and it is affecting my work."

"Your work?"

"I spilled some tea into his saucer."

"And he sent you to me?" Sir Roderick tutted and made a note.

"It has never happened before.  Mr. Wooster is very particular about his tea."

Sir Roderick shook his head and made another note. "And what has caused your upset, Jeeves?"

I intended to give another answer, but something about Sir Roderick's probing look prompted me to answer,” Unrequited love, sir."

"Unrequited love generally does cause problems, Jeeves.  Is this a person you see in your daily life?"

"No, Sir Roderick.  My lover died of illness during the Great War." I explained that my sleeping and eating had been affected and that I was unusually emotional and preoccupied.

The eminent psychiatrist grew thoughtful at this.  "Did something occur recently to remind you of this old distress?"

"Yes, Sir Roderick."

He pondered for a few moments.  "You seem a generally well-balanced fellow, Jeeves.  I order that you take a break of some weeks in an area where you can relax and have a complete change of scene.  It will do you good.  And bring along a friend if you can, someone whose company will soothe you.  That will do you good as well.  I will write a letter to Mr. Wooster on your behalf."

I walked to my club in a state of considerable distress, assailed by memories long suppressed and, I thought, forgotten.  My first love had not entered my thoughts for some years.  He had been the son of a gentleman, a bright cheerful lad with sandy brown hair and a ready smile. I worshipped him and he had taken me under his wing. We spent a great deal of time together and when we grew to me young men, more tender emotions sprang up between us.  Now I suspect that he had certain intentions toward me for longer than I realized, but at first there were simply excuses to wrestle and play. Later, he showed me how to pleasure him and reciprocated this service most willingly.  Despite my willing participation in these activities, I shied  from kissing him, and it was not until he joined the armed forces that I permitted this liberty from him.  On our last day together, he held me and asked a favor.  "I know, Reggie, that these things are not meant to be between us for so many reasons, but please, please do not forget me."  I promised I would not, but when I learned that he had been killed, I did forget. I threw myself into the company of women and swore never to allow myself to feel so much for another again. I had hardly noticed my feelings for Mr. Wooster before this meeting, but they began to assail me.

Mr. Wooster readily agreed to a beach excursion.  I neglected to inform him that I had made arrangements for us to stay in a location frequented by men with particular inclinations in an endeavor to distract my employer from his cause for grief.  He is a very attractive man, and could readily garner admirers.


	2. The Precious Pet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeeves brings Bertie to the beach where wacky high jinks ensue. Moonlight swims and forward chappies feature. Jeeves romps about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> laeticiav inspired the use of swimsuits in the current tale.
> 
> The anchor swim suit I had in mind is from MaireMcLeod's clothing web site. The vintage clothes are just marvellous. She does not in any way endorse the Jeeves and Wooster uses of this swim suit.

**Bertie**

Jeeves carried on and whatnot. We hied forth to a beach area on the Cote d’Azur just outside Antibes. Some of the Drones had joked about it over the years. The bean strained to recall why, but it would come back.

“Rather a lot of chaps about, what?” I said, taking in the numerous men in their scanty swimming attire, walking arm in arm or with arms slung about each other’s waists.  “These French blighters are dashed affectionate with their chums, Jeeves.”

“Indeed, sir.”  He shimmered us toward a pleasant looking building between two beaches. The digs were humbler than I was accustomed to, but just fine. We had a sitting room, a sort of kitchen nook, and two bedrooms.  Jeeves oozed about, setting things to rights and then laid out my swimsuit.  The Wooster lemon nearly spun about in conster-thingummy and dismay.  Wooster tended to prefer to sport the baggy striped shorts, the ones that left the knees exposed to the elements but did not reveal the extent, as it were, of the private bits.  And a top, generally, was considered in the W. opinion, to be rather essential.  This garment sported a rather fruity anchor design, but was spare, hardly covering the needful bits and… “Jeeves, where is the top?”

He materialized at the elbow. “Sir?”

“Of this swimsuit. Where is the top?”

He pursed the lips slightly.  “Tops are not in vogue at the moment here, sir.  Surely you observed the beach when we arrived.”

“But Jeeves.”  Alas, he had not packed any other type of swim clothes for me, and the anchors were quite fruity.  I dressed and toddled off with a blanket and hamper, admonishments about staying at the correct beach as a rougher element prevailed elsewhere, ringing in the ears.  Jeeves would follow with the umbrella in a few moments. 

The beach was dashed unpleasant.  I wandered a bit before I found a fruity location, and hoped Jeeves would find me.  I lay down the towel and slipped off the beach jacket and in a trice, I was surrounded by coves who wanted to speak to me or, of all the rank nonsense, give me a kiss.  It was bally horrifying.  No amount of polite request to desist would serve. One fellow cupped the buttocks in the most forward way, bold as brass, and another was positively grabbing the waistband to get a peek at the Wooster personal, er, person.  I had just brushed off the foreign hands and fingers and laid one out on the pebbly shore, when another hand stole about the willowy waist. This hand did not feel creeping or intrusive.  It seemed the sort of h. expressly designed to be placed on the w. w., in fact.  I looked up and noticed that the h. in question was attached to Jeeves, who was snarling at my admirers in a rather aggressive way, and hugging the w. form against his more robust person. He was clad only in his swimsuit, a one-piece number with shorts and a brief top, and the anchors began to strain in the Wooster below-decks region.

“Jeeves,” I gasped, shaking like a palsy victim once the coves drifted off, patting each others’ bums in a friendly way.  “I had it well under control.”

He squeezed and bent his head to whisper in my ear.  “You did.”  I could see his eyes flick to my swimsuit and then I registered a pronounced dampness about the Jeevesian person.  “Perhaps a swim will refresh you.  I apologize for having lost sight of you.”

We ankled over to bring my hamper and towel to the place he had set up an umbrella. “I, er, ah… was this the wrong beach?”  He inclined his head and I noticed the other coves looking at him with envy.  He was a stunner and no doubt. “Perhaps we should go?”

“No, sir, I believe we have made our point.”  He set the hand back at the willowy waist and then a look of pure mischief passed over his dial. He positively tossed the young master over one shoulder and dashed for the waves, ducking me under the water and then hauling me up and helping to wipe the salty rivulets from the e.s.

“Jeeves, I am surprised at you.” I adopted a lofty tone.  “This is most,” I stopped because what it was was most delightful, but it does not do to tell your valet that you want to feel his arm around you again for reasons that are rather unprofessional.

“Indeed, sir,” he said and smiled.  I nearly fluttered, he looked so open and warm and friendly.  The he grabbed me and ducked me under the water again. A Wooster fought at Agincourt, and I rallied the forces and launched an offensive maneuver, liberally moistening the Jeevsian person.  A fine time was had by all, and I hardly remembered my anxiety and shock at being so manhandled by those chaps. 

I’d really no idea that taking a standard Jeeves—not that there is a standard, as he is a paragon—subtracting one valet uniform and rinsing liberally with salt water would result in the most bally wonderful playful pet imaginable.  He was almost like a puppy in his eagerness to splash and romp and play with me.  We repaired to the blanket and portioned out the contents of the hamper, Jeeves sprawled out on his own towel beside me.

“Please forgive the liberty, sir,” he said in a low voice.

“No, no,” I said, allowing the e.s. to take a peek at the most magnificent Jeevesian terrain. “We were ordered here for your health, and I am your, erm, companion.”

He positively pinkened about the ears. We spoke of neutral things and had a brief dispute about mess jackets, then played a bit more and oozed off home during the worst heat of the day. We had grown a bit pink in the sun and daubed each other with salve. Jeeves’s skin is dashed smooth and lovely. Then we dressed to ankle out for dinner because I didn’t want him cooking.

“Will we take a trip over to Monte Carlo?” I was suggesting as we left the digs, and Jeeves was smiling in delighted surprise when suddenly the stuffed frog popped out of nowhere.  I followed his gaze up the street and the e.s lighted on none other than Ginger Winship, in his evening dress and wrapped around some fellow I couldn’t quite place. Suddenly his maudlin confession meant something quite different, and I realized that it really ought **_not_** to have been me cravenly scooting around as his adulterous lover. The heart shattered, but beneath that pain, I was dashed grateful that he never asked.  I might not have been able to resist and I would have hated myself for it.

Jeeves was positively gobsmacked behind the s. frog, but something boiled up in the slender frame.  I trickled over and heard them talking.

“Am I better than that Wooster?” the other blighter was saying.  I placed him though. Pinky Pinkerton.  Oxford man, I think, and not a Drone, but a frequent guest.

The most unpleasant sensation twisted the bowels, but Ginger said, “Enough. I told you. Bertie would never go in for that sort of thing.  We are just pals from schooldays. Nothing more and I won’t hear you speak of him that way, old bean.”  Good old Ginger.  No wonder I loved him.

I found the voice and said, “Is that Pinky Pinkerton? I remember meeting you at the Drones. How are you?” They lifted the peepers from each other, and Ginger’s face went bright red and then green before settling into the color of beeswax.  Generally, Wooster is not adept with the social deception, but I loved Ginger and I could not bear to see his distress. I waited and then turned and said, “Oh, Ginger!  I’d no idea that was you.  I thought you were in Paris honeymooning.  Is Mrs. Winship about?” Poor Ginger gaped like a goggle-eyed gaping thing.

I turned back to make some bland conversation with Pinky until Ginger recovered.  “Bertie!  She wanted a few days to shop without me underfoot and I thought I’d take in Monte Carlo, but other distractions occurred.”

“Yes, yes,” I said in a fake, hearty voice.  “These things will happen.  I have to dash off to dinner and tomorrow I am off to Monte Carlo, so I won’t be seeing you again, then?” I met his eyes and saw that he understood me. I would not tell anyone what I had seen if he left.

“Sadly, no, old crumpet.”

Jeeves had dematerialized, but when I was well out of sight, he took my arm.  “Sir? Is there some service I can render?” I looked at him and realized that I was shaking.  The mouth opened and closed. “Perhaps I will see you back to our rooms and carry in something?”  I nodded.  He ushered me to the back entrance, and slipped an arm about the waist to help me up the stairs when the pins went to liquid.  We entered the flat and I settled onto the divan. He sat beside me.  “I would prefer not to leave you alone and in distress, sir.  Perhaps we should partake of the meal I planned? It will not keep if we go to Monte Carlo.”

I nodded.  The Jeevesian paw smoothed the golden hair, and he returned to me with a pack of cards and set up an old top hat.  I tossed cards while he changed and then I tried to ooze into the kitchen, but he did not want me getting spattered.  We ate a nice dinner and made our plans for Monte Carlo.  Afterward, Jeeves joined me in tossing cards. He missed the first fifteen or so and then landed every single one.

“I apologize, sir.”

“Jeeves?”

“I thought that you had avoided the other beach because you perceived Mr. Winship and his companion. I thought you were in need of some distraction, and I felt confident that Mr. Winship would not recognize me if I was behaving as your companion.  I would have conducted myself quite differently had I realized the true matter.”

“Ah, no, Jeeves. I had no idea. I simply made a wrong turning.” I tossed a card and a thought struck me.  Jeeves had pulled off his frog and opened up like a playful puppy flower because he thought I was distressed. “So, you would have saved the young master and then deposited him on the correct ground?” He agreed that I had correctly surmised the case or some dashed vocabulary-laden nonsense.  “Then it was a dashed happy accident, what?” I said, catching his e.  “That was really the most pleasant day, Jeeves.  You are a bally wonderful playmate.” He twinkled then, positively twinkled.

“I do endeavor to give satisfaction, sir.”

“You blasted well did, Jeeves.  You gave a great deal of satisfaction.”

“Thank-you, sir.” 

“Will we go for a moonlight swim, then?” He looked like a guppy struck over the head with another fish, er, the kind reader will insert an appropriate metaphor here, but in a happy and satisfied way, like a puppy who had played all day and expects to be put in a basket under the stove but instead is given a thorough tummy rub and a snuggle. It was dashed pleasant. 

No one ever said that Wooster was the most intelligent bean among the monkeys typing out ham, er sandwiches, ah Hamlet, and thus the perspicacious—spending years around Jeeves does have this effect—reader will not be surprised on learning that I’d not the foggiest notion of what might be happening between me and my stunner of a valet.

**Jeeves**

The next weeks were a very happy time for both Mr. Wooster and myself.  We repaired to Monte Carlo for a day, where we each renewed acquaintances, and then returned to our beach apartments with the plan of spending some days before returning for a more lengthy stay in an Italian town.  We ended by finishing the full two weeks.  Our playful camaraderie began to remind me powerfully of the time in my youth when I dallied and roughhoused with my first love. 

The evening before we were set to depart for some days in Monte Carlo antecedent to a trip along the Italian coast, Mr. Wooster once again invited me for a moonlight swim.  However, the moon was dark, and I tried to keep him within arm’s reach.  He dove playfully under the water to evade me and I panicked.  He surfaced to hear my anguished whisper and then took my hand.

“Dashed sorry Jeeves.”

I could hold myself in check no longer.  “I must tender my resignation, sir.”

“But why, Jeeves? I’ve apologized.”  I took him in my arms and kissed him.  He responded enthusiastically and then froze. “Ah, that would be, erm.”  He patted my chest and took my hand.  “Jeeves, I am deeply flattered, but, you may not realize it, the heart has been recently broken, quite dashed to tiny bits and all that.  Can you, will you stay with me, and let me have some time to consider?”

“Of course, sir,” I said.  “May I?”

“Ah, whatsit?” I took him in my arms and pressed his trembling body against my breast until he stilled.  “Thank-you Jeeves.”

“You are most welcome, sir.”

“I am rejecting your resignation, by the way.”

“Very good, sir.”

**Bertie**

The next weeks were still dashed delightful, even with the confusion of the first Jeevesian kiss looming overhead and whatnot. I had always thought of him as a stunner and a ladies’ man. It would not have occurred to me that he could be interested in the scrawny young master.

We spent our time quite differently at Monte Carlo and passed a pleasant few weeks.  He had a contingent of valets to spend time with and there was some beazel who wanted to get engaged, but I managed to get away before anything terribly inconvenient happened.  And then we were in another little town of the type Jeeves had initially chosen for me.  We had a little cottage by the beach near to a small hotel, and as I watched the chaps roam about in their skimpy suits, arms about each other, the shoe, er, penny, er, thing dropped.

“Jeeves,” I said as we partook of the fragrant eggs and what passed for b. in Italy.

“Yes, sir?”

“I must ask.  Did you select our French retreat in order to find me a replacement lover?”

Jeeves went a deep crimson. “I admit that it was a consideration.” I should have felt pipped with him, absolutely p.d, but in fact, I found it sweet and touching in a s., t. way.

“Ah.  Will we go for a swim?”

“The sun may be hot, sir.”

“We still have some of that salve?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Will we?”

“Of course, sir.”

It was most pleasant, and we repaired back to our little cottage to clean up before taking our dinner at the hotel.  Jeeves had started the bath and I was about to remove the swim suit when I noticed a straining under the anchors.  I had been trying to hide the evidence of my attraction to him.  It seemed terribly unpreux, but we had come to some other understanding these weeks and I felt less dastardly than I might have had he not approached me.  I looked up and saw that he had noticed and then I looked down and saw a similar straining in the Jeevesian swim suit. I looked up again and our eyes met.  I had never seen such a look of open vulnerability on an adult face as the look that played across his dial in that moment. He really did want me, and he was afraid of what I would say. I simply melted.

“I, er, ah,” I stammered, overcome by the realization that I was utterly and profoundly in love with my valet. 

“Sir?”  He stroked the golden hair and I emitted a low rumbling sound and moved closer. “I,” he brushed the lips, “would like to tender…” I stopped him by placing the Wooster lips on his mouth. The quality of the kiss was innocent and fresh, as if he had not kissed this way before, or in some long time.

“Jeeves, perhaps we can discuss this after dinner?” He opened the mouth and two tears rolled down his face. “My word, Jeeves, you’re trembling.”

“Sir, I have…” he seemed so embarrassed and tender that I stroked his hair and sat him down. “I have not…”

“Please do not worry yourself, Jeeves.” We cleaned up eventually, but not before I felt that I had a reasonably good taste of his luscious mouth. He was simply luscious.  I may have mentioned it, but there it was. Luscious. Simply.

Dinner was pleasant and heady and we ankled back on the early side.  I took his hand and we flopped about on the chaise, or W. flopped and Jeeves exhibited proper posture.

“Sir, I have not,” he cleared the throat and blushed, averting his eyes in the most endearing way.  “I am not certain what to do.”

I bally well was certain. “If you allow me, Jeeves, I will be gentle with you.”  That soft look came out again, and I kissed him, mussing his hair and calling him all manner of tender things. I asked him if he was sure that he wanted Wooster. “It will be easier for you if you want a beazel, Jeeves.” He lifted the peepers then and told me about his first love.  It sounded terribly not preux, I must say.  Older lad, going to school coming home and teaching a young servant lad to be his bedmate, not that they had a bed, scurrying furtively in the woods, it sounded like.  What if they had been caught?  What would have happened to Jeeves? “I don’t want to be a matter of convenience to you Jeeves.  Or a duty.”

“No, sir,” he said, brushing the fair hair away from the face. “I feel so very affectionate toward you, so very fond of you.”  It was enough.  I would find a way to protect him.

I rose and took his hands to lead him to my bed. “You’ll tell me if I do anything that frightens or upsets you?” He opened and closed his mouth, and I set a hand at the small of his back. “We’ll go slowly and stop when you like to.”  He blushed again, but came willingly.

We undressed each other lingeringly, kissing and touching and murmuring together as we went.  He was beautifully made, and very, very well equipped in the needful areas, I must say.  It was dashed corking.  His hesitation brought out all manner of loving treatment from this Wooster.  He was an absolute pet, affectionate and sweet, and so awkward at first, pulling back in embarrassment when he grew eager under my touch. The heart nearly burst, I felt so full of warmth and delicate feelings toward him.  It had never occurred to me that these activities could be so emotional, but then I’d only ever really been with Ginger and that, I now realized, had really been mostly a romp because he always knew he would marry. I held Jeeves close and bent to whisper in his ear.  “Please don’t stop… it’s lovely, just lovely, however you like to be.”

After that, he took a very frank and enthusiastic interest in proceedings, particularly in the workings of the personal areas of the Wooster, er, person.  It took every ounce of willpower not to come off immediately, but I held back until he had taken his release so I could cuddle and nuzzle him and tell him that he was a precious pet and the most bally endearing chap and a number of things too mortifyingly embarrassing to repeat, but I meant every last one.

He blinked back into himself as we lay tangled together, naked and sticky.  “Sir?”  He sounded anxious, and I hastened to be soft with him.  “Did it, did I please you?”  You could have knocked me over with a swizzle stick.  After a flabbergasted pause, I lavished him with as much affection as I could muster, but that worried look still played across his dial.

I told him the truth. “No one has ever pleased me more than I am pleased right now, pet,” I said, brushing away at the two great tears that welled up and rolled down his handsome cheeks.  “You absolute darling.”  He smiled then and stroked my shoulder with a fingertip.  A pronounced wriggling then commenced in the Jeevesian quarter.  “Would you like another go, then, pet?”  He looked up in surprise and blushed nearly down to his navel.  “Oh, pet, it’s quite all right. Would you like to?”  He cleared his throat.

“Yes, sir, very much.” That mode of address would never do, blast it.

“What would you like me to call you?” He lifted an eyebrow in question. “What name?  What is your name that you like to be called by the people who care for you?”

A long pause ensued. “Reggie,” he said.

“Will you call me Bertie?”

“Yes, sir.”  Then he winked, the dashed cheeky pet, and we had the most lovely tickle fight and made love like romping schoolboys and then rubbed against and wrapped around each other tenderly and sweetly.  The sky was beginning to lighten when we finally curled up together and dropped off to sleep.

**Jeeves**

Mr. Wooster was a most tender and gentlemanly bedmate and kindly eased my anxieties as he taught me how to best please him, and myself, in these intimate activities.  After some weeks in Italy, we repaired to Paris to procure Mr. Wooster some clothing and renew acquaintance at our clubs.  On the third morning, Mr. Wooster woke much earlier than I expected and came to find me in the kitchen.  I had just returned from the early market.

“Jeeves,” he said warmly, hugging and kissing me in the most affectionate way.  “Reggie, I mean, pet.”

“Good morning, master,” I said in a gravelly voice.  Mr. Wooster had playfully made up a type of game in which one of us was the slave and the other the master. We became quite distracted for a while and wound up in the bath together.

“Would you like your ‘go’ at being the slave now?” I asked him.  Mr. Wooster seemed to enjoy behaving in the most abjectly servile way during our game, while he preferred that I be more disobedient and gently overpower him.

“After we finish some business.  We have an appointment early this afternoon.”

We visited a bank, one at which I did not know Mr. Wooster did business.  He disappeared into the office and then a clerk called me in.  “Here, Jeeves, just sign these and we can run along.” I looked at the paperwork and my mouth dropped open.  He had asked me to accept an account in my name, with funds enough to support me in comfort for life.  I glanced at the rest of the papers and saw that while I had been managing a substantial fortune for him, Mr. Wooster was many-fold more wealthy than I suspected. My employer became brisk in the way he does when he is embarrassed. “None of that, now, Jeeves.  Just sign these for now, please.”   

I did as he asked and allowed him to guide me into a cab, which let us off at a new hotel.  He took my hand and led me inside to a suite of rooms where a pleasant meal was laid out.

“Sir, I am overcome.”

He flushed.  “Jeeves, er Reggie, I simply must have to safe and provided for, no matter what happens between us.  I’ve arranged for some other things as well, to protect us.” I felt deeply ashamed as he narrated the measures he had quietly taken while I was balancing his household accounts and culling his wardrobe of heliotrope hosiery. No wonder he had never seemed to care that his other valets had been careless with the housekeeping money. “But I must tell you that I do not look on this as a gift. You’ve earned it.  You have been so conscientious with me, so honest about the money, and even the clothes and er, whatsit.” He then began to babble. “But more than that, I want, er, that is, you to feel safe and secure, and to be the way we have been these last months. You are so endearing and precious, and I am so deeply grateful to you for tending to me and saving me, Jeeves. I don’t want you to feel obliged to continue, or indebted. I care for you. In fact, I believe I love you, pet, and I want you to be safe and well. Please accept this.”

I looked at the rooms with a careful eye—the large bed that dominated one room, the bottle of champagne, the baskets of fruit and flowers. “Bertie, is this a honeymoon suite?”

He looked at me with a face full of affection and anxiety.  “It is.  Please do not be offended or feel obligated.  I would not hold you against your will.”

The tears welled up in my eyes as I told him how deeply honored I was.  “And please, dear Mr. Wooster, please understand that you have saved me this time.  You have saved me.”  We held each other and wiped the tears away and then Mr. Wooster looked at me with his endearing grin and said.

“Will we romp a bit?”

“With pleasure.”


End file.
